Chapter 75: The Edge of Iron Hollow

The forest had turned to shadow and ice.

Fenn carried me in silence, his boots crunching through frost and broken twigs. Each step jostled pain through my side—white-hot, then dull, then white-hot again. I couldn’t tell if we were moving fast or slow. Everything felt like it was underwater.

Talon was bundled against his chest, muffled cries escaping now and then. He hadn’t stopped whimpering since the fight. I wanted to reach for him, just to touch him, just to say something—but my arms were leaden. My voice wouldn’t rise above a rasp.

The trees stretched above us like skeletal ribs, branches clawing at the sky. The moon was high now, and hard-edged, casting the woods in cold silver light. My wolf stirred beneath my skin—fevered, frantic, but fading.

Fenn’s breath steamed in ragged bursts as he climbed the last ridge, his voice a mutter that barely reached me.

“Just hold on, Widow. Stay with me. We’re close.”

I blinked hard. Everything doubled. His face. The trees. The stars.

“I—” My voice cracked. “Where…”

He looked down, jaw clenched tight. “We’re almost there. Iron Hollow. Just keep your eyes open.”

I tried.

Gods, I tried.

But they kept slipping shut, no matter how hard I fought.

Each breath burned. The blood from my side had soaked through two layers of cloth and was now seeping into his shirt. I felt it with every step—sticky, warm, leaving me colder than before.

“Should’ve killed them all,” Fenn muttered under his breath. “Should’ve seen them coming. Should’ve—”

“Stop,” I whispered.

He looked down, startled I could still speak.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, or thought I did. My lips barely moved. “It’s mine. I let them get too close.”

“You protected your son,” he growled. “That’s not weakness.”

The wind whipped through the ravine ahead, colder now, biting into my skin. I buried my face in the crook of his shoulder, trying to hold warmth.

“Just a little farther,” he said again, but his voice cracked.

“Don’t lie to me,” I murmured.

He huffed something between a laugh and a sob. “Damn stubborn even with a hole in your side.”

The snow grew deeper as we descended into a narrow valley. My senses started to warp—sounds stretched, colors bled at the edges of my vision. Every tree looked like a wolf. Every shadow looked like Kael.

“Is it snowing?” I asked.

“No.”

“It feels like snow.”

“It’s blood,” he said softly.

We crossed a broken streambed. He stumbled once, caught himself. A root tore across his leg, and he hissed in pain but didn’t stop. Talon whimpered again, louder this time. I couldn’t see him—just felt the vibration of his cry in Fenn’s chest.

My fingers twitched.

Then curled.

Then went still again.

“I don’t want to die,” I whispered, and hated how small I sounded.

“You’re not dying,” he said fiercely. “You’re not allowed.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m allowed.”

“That’s better,” he muttered. “Keep yelling at me. Keep breathing.”

The trees opened.

And suddenly, the world shifted.

The land ahead was darker, steeper. It didn’t look like the wildlands we’d crossed. It looked… older. Dead but pulsing with something that waited just beneath the earth.

We were at the edge of Iron Hollow.

Fenn stopped at a circle of jagged black stones, each one scarred by old scorch marks and claw gouges.

“You said they kill trespassers,” I murmured.

“They do.”

“Then what are we doing?”

He knelt slowly and laid me down just past the stones, as if that mattered—like two feet into Iron Hollow would save me but three would damn him.

“You’re not a trespasser,” he said, breathless now. “You’re a dying she-wolf with a pup and a rare bloodline. They might not kill you on sight.”

“That’s comforting.”

He pulled Talon from the sling and pressed him into the crook of my arm. My hands barely moved, but my body responded to the weight, even if weakly. My wolf surged once, protectively, then faded again.

I looked up at Fenn. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“They’ll kill me before they ask questions. But you—they might listen.”

I shook my head. “You stayed. You could’ve run. You didn’t.”

“I know.” His voice was hoarse. “And I’d do it again.”

He reached out and brushed a blood-matted strand of hair from my cheek.

“I was going to kiss you,” he whispered. “Back at the barn.”

“I know.”

“And you stopped me.”

I tried to nod. My throat was tight.

He gave a broken smile. “Doesn’t matter. I’d still walk through fire to keep you breathing.”

I blinked hard. “Fenn…”

“Tell Talon—” He stopped. Swallowed. “Just tell him I tried.”

Then he stood.

Turned.

And walked back into the trees without another word.

The cold seeped in deeper now. It filled my lungs. My bones. The ache in my side had gone numb. That was bad, I knew. But I couldn’t feel fear anymore. Just tiredness.

Talon whimpered.

I turned my face toward him, just enough to press my nose to his temple. He smelled like skin and salt and life.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. “I tried to keep us safe.”

He stirred. His tiny hand pressed against my collarbone, then fell again.

I blinked at the stars.

And they blinked back.

No. Not stars.

Eyes.

Silver.

Dozens of them. Far off. Getting closer.

No…

My breath hitched.

Not yet… not yet...

Then everything dropped.

I was running.

No—my wolf was running.

Snow sprayed under my paws. The sky was black. The trees moved. Whispered. Widow. Widow. Widow.

I heard Kael’s voice in the distance. Not in words. Just a growl I’d know anywhere. A protective rumble, a snarl of warning.

I turned, but there was only smoke.

Then Talon cried. Somewhere behind me. And I turned again, this time toward the sound—

—and found myself standing in the old den.

Firelight flickered across stone walls. Kael sat near the hearth, his face half-shadowed. Talon was in his arms, quiet and content.

“Not yet,” I said.

Kael looked up. “Then wake up.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know. But look.”

He angled Talon toward me. My boy’s eyes were glowing silver-black. His wolf stirring.

“Protect him,” Kael said. “That’s what you’re meant to do.”

I sank to my knees. “I don’t know how.”

“You already are.”

I blinked—

—and the dream shattered.

Back in my body.

Pain like fire through my gut.

Breathing shallow.

The sky above. Full of stars.

And the howling had begun.

Low. Then higher.

One voice. Then three.

Then six.

Wolves.

Not wild. Not rogue.

Pack.

Organized.

Coming fast.

I wanted to sit up.

I wanted to shift.

I wanted to scream that I wasn’t a threat—that I was just a mother trying to live.

But I couldn’t move.

Talon whimpered again. Pressed tighter to my side.

Then silence.

The wind dropped.

My heart gave one last, ragged beat of warning.

Then everything went black.